April 2016

April 25, 2016

Being stranded on IF Island often means you are stuck some place you really don't want to be with a bag full of questions but very few answers. I know because I was stuck there for nearly four years on my "journey to parenthood," and the questions were non-stop.

Why is this happening? Why do people tell me to just relax when there is NO WAY I can? And why do people think relaxing gets you knocked up? Why doesn't insurance cover the cost of treatment? Why didn't any doctor tell me I could have taken a blood test to know my ovarian reserve BEFORE it was too late? Why do I feel like crying all the time? Why does it feel like babies are falling out of the sky for everyone else? Why are medications so expensive? Why is this so hard to talk about? Why do I feel so isolated and misunderstood if infertility affects 1 in 8 people-- that's millions of people around the world? Why is it illegal in places to use third party reproduction? Why is there stigma and shame attached to fertility problems? Why do I have (fill in the blank fertility problem...) in the first place? Will anything ever work and, if so, WHEN!!!???

This continuous litany of questions can be very exhausting, especially when you are thinking about questions that sometimes have no definitive answers. It’s like your cell phone searching for a signal-- a spinning wheel until there is no battery left. You get depleted.

In the years when I was struggling to conceive, the questions of Why were the hardest. Why was my true age in the early 30's but my ovaries acted like they were pushing 50? Why didn't we try earlier? Why didn't a doctor guide me to getting information when it could have been useful? Why was all of this so friggin' expensive? Why was nothing working? Why did our embryos fall apart in the dish? Why did my sister's donated egg cycle not work? Why did I feel so alone all the time? Why, why, WHY!!??

When I shifted my thought process from asking “Why?” to asking “How?” I felt myself change. I went from drowning in a pessimistic pity party (which is totally understandable but seldom helpful), to attending a problem solving seminar. How was I going to find my baby? How was I going to be open to how that baby came to me? And how was I going to stay sane through the process.

The three H's.

Thinking of How helped me become determined and proactive. It helped me process the various losses that can come up when neck deep in fertility treatments. For me, the most challenging loss was the absence of our personal DNA (which I've come to realize really doesn't matter). I finally accepted that having a family was more about just that, a family, and that a child was more than a tiny human created from the combination of my and my husband’s genes. Being more open to the How gave me more options, more hope and different focus. I wasn't stuck on why certain things were the way they were. There was nothing I could really do about my diminished ovarian reserve, and nothing at all I could do about the money and time we had lost. Being focused on the How kicked me into detective mode as I searched for options and ideas for how we were going to start our family. I started this blog to connect to others, and my husband and I made a documentary (THAT'S DONE! Check out the NEW TRAILER here and stay tuned for when the full movie is out in the world!) to share our story with others so that some we might be able to turn our lemons into a lemonade that could help others.

And even though I went back to the drawing board many a time, finally the How happened. We opted for a frozen transfer of a donated embryo, and finally something worked. Our baby girl via embryo donation turned a year old last month and the only question I still have is How could we have ended up with any other child when this one was ours all along, just waiting for us to find her??

I'd do everything again ten times in order to end up with this baby girl, our baby girl.

Asking questions is important and not knowing the answers in frustrating. But having hope and an open heart and mind can help us all ask the most important question-- How am I going to find my baby?

Let's ask lot of questions and work to affect change during National Infertility Awareness Week-- change in policy, change in attitude, change in the way infertility is viewed and understood, and change in our own understanding of what's most important for each one of us individually.

April 11, 2016

This month is National Infertility Awareness Week, so I'm going to do my best to keep up better with the blog here. One of the reasons I started this blog was to raise awareness and build community and help connect to fellow Islanders who often feel very isolated. I've been getting emails lately from people who are literally stranded on the Island. And all I can really say to them is it sucks. It really, really sucks. One of the worst feelings in the world, for me at least, is to feel lost.

I was very lost on IF Island, not knowing how we were going to get/make/have a baby. I still feel lost a lot with this whole parenting thing. I also feel actually lost quite often, like every time I park in Santa Monica at one of those parking lots where there are like ten lots that all look the same and I forget where I'm parked and end up traipsing multiple parking lots in a panic. In my mind I know I'm going to find my car. I know I'm going to figure it out and get home and be safe. But in the moment of feeling lost and confused and mad at myself and mad at the parking lot, I can hardly think and just want to cry. That's the panic of feeling there is no way out.

Now, did I seriously just compare IF Island to not being able to find my car? Yes. Kinda. Only in that when we don't know what's happening or we can't seem to find our way, we often default to panic mode. Fear can be an overwhelming emotion, but it's also a natural instinct. Fear is what helped us escape from wild beasts who wanted to eat us many moons ago. Fear drives us to figure things out, but it can also be debilitating.

I had many moments of fear during the years we spent "trying" to build our family. Sometimes that fear (distrust, anxiety, whatever you want to call it) drove me to action. It helped me research and get answers and ask questions. But sometimes it completely paralyzed me and overwhelmed my system. The key is getting in touch with where you are at in a given moment, and to respond accordingly. When anxiety is a driving force, get out of my way I'm on a mission. When anxiety is debilitating, I need to take a few deep breaths and focus on managing that feeling better in order to think and act clearly.

As a newish parent, I find moments of that fear creeping back in. It's normal, all of these feelings are very normal, but the question I often ask is is it helpful? Being a little fearful of germs helps me stay vigilant about washing Momo's hands and keeping her away from snot nosed kids. Being obsessed with germs turns us agoraphobic. The other day Momo fell on her face. She scraped her nose and it was bleeding and while I was calm in the moment, I also felt flushed with this overwhelming fear that I don't know where the nearest urgent care is, and then I started to worry about her drowning. It was a really interesting though train I had and I realized that fear really breeds fear. When we are anxious about one thing it often is contagious and we start to build up our list of worries.

There is a lot to worry about with parenting an infant and infertility. There are a lot of 'what-ifs' and a lot of unknowns and a lot of things we cannot predict or have control over. The best we can do is stay present and focused. To be mindful and understand our feelings and where they are coming from, and to reality check ourselves. Are germs really floating through the air and attacking Momo's face? (Seriously, sometimes I really think I can see them.) Are none of my follicles going to grow or am I just worried about that?

It's all hard, so being kind to ourselves along the journey is important. Finding a way to meditate or ask ourselves if something real or if it is our anxiety talking, might help us stay with what is in a given moment. That's all we've got in the end.

Wishing everyone struggling with fears on IF Island and beyond moments of calm and mental peace.

April 01, 2016

I got an email from a fellow Islander who may likely have to let go of her own genetics in order to have a baby. It's can be a really hard thing to wrap your head around, this idea of losing a genetic link. I too thought first of the losses before I moved on to realizing all that I was actually gaining. One thing this person asked me via email was about how I calmed my fears about Momo being okay with her origins? When I read that line I had a moment where I thought, "OMG, is Momo going to be...I don't know...upset? Confused? Have a feeling of longing or...something when she starts understanding her story?" And then I remembered how I calmed the worries that may have initially popped up before she was plopped into my uterus.

I love this baby girl from the deepest parts of my soul. When we lock eyes and rub noses nothing else in the universe matters. She was made from my heart and Noah's heart and there is no doubt in my mind that she was meant to be our baby. I also know that there is something special about her. Something kind of magical. Perhaps all parents think that about their child, and all parents are probably right. But Momo has such a tenacity, a will, a kindness to her. She is wise beyond her years and she wakes up every morning with an excitement for life that makes the 5am wake up call bearable (most of the time). She is my superhero and may very well do great things with her life, (no pressure though, Momo). And every great superhero has a story of how they got here.

Her story involves strangers. Pieces of biology from people we may never know, though I hope we can find them somehow. On the one had that might be upsetting to her but on the other hand she might see how amazing it is that her life was made possible but the kindness of strangers. That's how I think about it, and all I can do is hope that she feels special and loved.

Noah and I are completely open to whatever her identity formation years might bring. I can't say some of it doesn't terrify me, but rather than think of her story as baggage she has or some complicated...stuff we are going to have to break down for her, I try to think of it as the origin story of a superhero. She was created the year Noah and I started "trying" (OMG that feels like a zillion years ago, and for some reason I still have my ovulation calendars, ha!). She is my ethnic mix and looks just like me. She's from Noah's hometown. And she's awesome. And everything we went through for years led us to her.

I never really worried that I wouldn't connect to a child not genetically related to me. That just wasn't a fear of mine. But I also never really realized how all the thoughts and conversations Noah and I had about genetics would eventually mean so little.

We are going to tell her her story (or she can watch it!) and then we will follow her lead. That's how I calm my fears. I know how we feel about her and I see how securely attached and happy she is. I have faith that we as a family will figure out anything that comes up, because that's what families do.